


You're My Favorite Color

by anephemeralmind



Series: Blind Love [3]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Blind Character, Fluff, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Meeting the Parents, aka Armie's parents suck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 04:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14908713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anephemeralmind/pseuds/anephemeralmind
Summary: Their parents find out about their relationship. Some take it better than others.





	1. Timmy's parents.

Armie groaned into Timmy’s mouth as his hips involuntarily pushed up from the couch, and made contact with Timmy’s where he was straddling him. Both of Timmy's hands clutching Armie’s face, kissing him with fierce desperation.

Neither of them heard the car pulling up the driveway, or the front door opening.

“Timmy! We’re ho- _oh my god!_ ” Timmy pulls away so fast, their mouths separating with a wet sound, and Armie has to grab the neck of Timmy's t-shirt to make sure he doesn’t fall off the couch and brain himself on the coffee table. A blush of embarrassment quickly taking over Timmy’s face.

Armie looks sheepishly over at the two people standing in the doorway, quite obviously Timmy’s parents. His dad looks more amused than anything else, but his mom? Well, the fact that her jaw is still on the floor was probably a good indicator as to how she felt about everything.

“Hi, mom.” Timmy whispers timidly.

“Dad too.” His dad chuckles, and Armie watches Timmy’s blush deepen.

“Shit.” Timmy whispers, making his dad laugh for real.

“It’s alright, son. Could be worse, at least your dicks are still in your pants.” He says, before walking into the kitchen.

“ _Marc!_ ” Timmy’s mom calls after him. “How can you be so blasé about this? We literally just came home to find _our son_ playing tonsil hockey with some guy he can’t have known more than a few hours!”

Timmy’s dad returns a short while later carrying a tray with four steaming mugs. “Nicole, honestly, as long as their pants are still on, I really don’t care. Like we didn’t make out the same day we met? Don’t be a hypocrite, darling." He puts the tray down on the table. "Now, I’ve made us some tea. So come on, sit down please, lets pretend we’re adults for a second and actually talk about this.”

He places a mug in front of Armie, and one in front of Timmy as well, sitting down in the love seat across from them. And before he even has time to think about it, Armie picks Timmy’s mug up. “Give me your hand, please.” He says, smiling when Timmy does what he says without question. “Okay, here comes your cup of tea, wrap your fingers around the handle, just like that. But be careful, yeah? It’s hot.” He hands the mug over to Timmy, very slowly, not removing his own hands, that are wrapped around the mug itself, until he’s absolutely sure Timmy has a proper hold on it. Doesn’t matter that the heat coming off it is more than hot enough to burn his hands, rather that than Timmy dropping it and having burning hot tea splash over his lap just because Armie was careless.

Armie looks up to find Timmy’s parents watching their interaction with matching soft smiles. Until Timmy's mom must remember what she just walked in on, a frown taking over her face and she opens her mouth to say something.

“I guess introductions are in order.” Timmy’s dad cuts in before his wife has a chance to find her voice. She sends him a glare, and he sends her a toothy grin in return.

“I’m Timmy’s father, as I’m sure you’ve gathered by now. My name is Marc, and this is my wife Nicole. She’s usually a lot nicer, but you just caught us a little off guard, I’m sure you understand.” He smiles warmly over at Armie.

“Uhm, yeah. Sorry about that.” Armie sends them a sheepish smile. “I’m Armie? Uh, Hammer. Armie Hammer. I live across the street from you? And uh, I go to school with Timmy? Yeah, we met at school.”

“He’s been amazing today, mom. Honestly.” Timmy adds, the hand not holding his tea cup starts patting across the couch, in search of Armie’s hand, and he smiles over at Timmy as he takes his hand in his.

“He volunteered to help me, you know? With settling in, and walking me to all my classes. He even offered to drive me to and from school every day, because our schedules are basically identical.” Timmy gives his hand a squeeze, and Armie looks over at his parents. Timmy’s dad smiling, as always, but his mom still has a light frown on her face. Her eyes cut to Armie’s, squinting slightly as she considers Timmy’s words.

“Is this true, Armie? You’re willing to take on that responsibility?”

“Absolutely.” Armie nods.

“You do know, if we’re to trust you with this, you can’t just wake up one day and decide not to go to school, right?”

“Of course! I wouldn’t do that.” He’s definitely done that before, but Timmy wasn’t in the picture then. And just the thought of staying home from school, leaving Timmy all alone to fend for himself, leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

“Mom, _please_. Chill, yeah?” Timmy pleads.

“Chill? _Chill?!_ I spend all day at work, worried sick about you alone in a new school, surrounded by strangers, and I come home to find you with your tongue halfway down the throat of one of said strangers, and you tell me to _chill?!_ ”

“Yes! I’m not a child anymore, mom! I can take care of myself, make my own decisions. Please, for once in your life, just _let_ _me live._ ”

Timmy’s mom is left speechless, blinking over at them. Timmy turns towards Armie. “Can you put my mug on the table and walk me up to my room, please?”

“Of course, anything you want.” Armie nods, even though Timmy can’t see it. He carefully takes the mug out of Timmy’s hands, placing it on the table, sending his parents a quick apologetic smile, before standing up and helping Timmy do the same.

Timmy’s hand comes to rest in the crook of Armie’s elbow, in the spot Armie has come to think of as Timmy’s already, even though he’s only been guiding him around for a day.

“Which way to you room?” He whispers.

“To the right, and up the stairs.”

They start making their way to the stairs, Armie telling Timmy to get ready for the first step, when Timmy’s mom calls after them.

“Just. Timmy. Leave the door open, please.” Timmy nods. Lifting his leg and Armie guides it down on the step.

They make their way up the stairs slowly, Armie smiling down at the bits of bumpy rubber tape Timmy’s parents have put down on the edge of every step, no doubt to help him realize where the steps end, so he can make it up and down completely unaided once he’s settled into his surroundings a little more.

“My room is the third one on the right.” Timmy says as they reach the top of the stairs, and Armie opens the door, revealing a spacious room with a massive king size bed pushed up against the wall furthest away from the door. They make their way over to the bed, leaving the door open, as per Timmy’s mom’s request.

Walking across the room, Armie looks around, taking in every detail. The wall with the door, and quite a bit of the wall next to it, is completely covered in bookshelves from floor to ceiling, filled to the brim with what Armie assumes are books printed in braille. His bedside table houses a record player, and there’s quite a few vinyls resting on a shelf above it. There’s also a desk underneath the window, the surface scattered with random bits of paper and there’s a laptop casually chilling in the middle of it.

“Oh, you have a computer! I don’t know why I assumed you wouldn’t.” Armie says, as they sit down on the bed, feeling like an idiot. But Timmy just chuckles.

“Yeah, I use a screen reader, it was worth every dollar, let me tell you.”

“I like your room.” Armie looks around once more, smiling. “It’s very you.”

“Is it?” Timmy asks, sounding genuinely surprised.

“Yeah, definitely. You might not have lived here very long, but there’s absolutely no doubt who this room belongs to. All your books, your records, the color of the wall? Yeah, it’s very Timmy.”

“The color of the wall?” Timmy chuckles. “How does the color of the wall remind you of me? I didn’t even choose it, I didn’t bother repainting when we moved in, because, you know, what’s the point?”

“It’s beautiful though, a soft pale green. Matches your eyes.” Armie grins.

He’d gotten Timmy to remove his sunglasses earlier, Timmy hadn’t wanted to at first, said the way his eyes kept moving around tended to freak people out. But Armie had just cupped his cheek, and kissed him softly, before whispering “I’m not people. Don’t hide from me, Timmy, please.”

When he’d finally taken the sunglasses off, Armie was left speechless, Timmy’s eyes were absolutely gorgeous. Yeah, so they were a little unfocused, it didn’t matter. They were still the most beautiful pair of eyes Armie had ever seen, and he absolutely dreaded the moment Timmy would put his sunglasses back on.

“Really?” Timmy says surprised.

“Yeah, I think it might just be my new favorite color.” Armie smiles over at him, loving the blush that’s colors Timmy’s cheeks at his words, and the way his mouth curled up in a pleased smile.

“We should probably talk about what just happened.” Timmy says with a sigh, and Armie mourns the loss of happiness on his face.

“Yeah, we probably should. Do you want to go first, or should I?” Armie takes Timmy’s hand in his again, entwining their fingers this time,

“I’ll go.” Timmy nods. “I’m really sorry about my mom’s reaction. You didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s fine, Timmy. Honestly. What she walked in on? I’d probably react the same way if I were in her shoes.”

“Still doesn’t make it right though.”

“No, but, Timmy. She doesn’t even know me. For all she knows I’m just a fuckboy who sweet talked you into letting me take advantage of you. You should be glad that she cares enough to get mad.”

“I guess.” Timmy frowns. “I still don’t have to like it though.”

“Of course not! All I’m saying is, maybe just try to understand where she’s coming from before you bite her head off.”

“I promise, I’ll at least try. But I can’t do much better than that right now.”

“And I’m not asking you to.” Armie leans in to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I like that you’re so ready to come to my defense. It’s kinda hot.” Armie jokes.

“We should probably talk about that, too.” Timmy smiles.

“What? How hot you are? Trust me, I could talk about that all day.”

“No, you jackass. I was referring more to you know, the whole, uh, us thing.”

“The us thing.” Armie repeats with a smile.

“Unless you don’t want there to be an us thing! Then that’s fine too. But we should still talk about it!” Timmy rushes out and Armie can see his shoulders tense up, no doubt preparing himself for Armie to say that this was all a mistake.

“Timmy, shh, relax. Of course I want there to be an us thing. Are you kidding me? From the moment I laid eyes on you, that’s all I wanted. And then I started getting to know you, and now I just want it even more. Please don’t ever doubt that.”

“Oh. I mean. Uh. Hmm.” Timmy blinks, looking a bit confused all of a sudden. And it’s Armie’s turn to get nervous.

“Elaborate, please.”

“Oh! No. It’s nothing bad! I just – uh – I... It’s – I guess I just don’t understand it, how you can just _see_ someone and go ‘ah yes, I want this!’ I just. I can’t relate to it.” Timmy shrugs.

“Well, how do you know? When you’re attracted to someone, I mean, how do you know?” Armie asks, genuinely intrigued. Attraction for him had always been based on what he could see in the moment, and then actually getting to know the person either added to or subtracted from that initial attraction later. He hadn’t ever experienced finding someone attractive purely based on their personality and nothing else, but then the people he’d been attracted to in the past tended to be, well, movie stars and musicians, so that probably doesn’t actually count.

“It’s a feeling, I guess. Like, people give off an energy, right? And then, when I – uh – feel it, or, you know, if I like them? There’s this feeling I get in my stomach. Kind of like butterflies? Except their wings are really heavy. And my skin starts tingling every time they speak. With you? I feel all that and more. Did from the moment you came up to help me down to my seat this morning. And when you kissed me, that first time, on the doorstep? It was like my entire body exploded with fireworks, I’ve never felt like that before.” Timmy whispers, and his eyelashes flutter as he closes his eyes, body automatically trying to shield itself against the vulnerability Timmy must be feeling in that moment.

“That’s. _Timmy._ ” Armie can’t find the words to explain how Timmy’s words made him feel, and he gives up on trying. Choosing instead to lean in, capturing Timmy’s lips and pouring everything he’s feeling into their kiss.

“Me too, with the butterflies.” Armie whispers against Timmy’s lips, pulling back with a smile.

“Yeah?” Timmy smiles, blushing again.

“Definitely. You give me so many butterflies.”

“Uhm, but back to the us thing.” Timmy bites his lip nervously. “I just, uhm, what – what do you want it to mean?”

“What I want the us thing to mean? That’s easy, Timmy. I want the us thing to mean that you’re gonna be my boyfriend, starting today, and then I want you to stay my boyfriend for a long long time. Possibly even forever.”

“I can’t stay your boyfriend forever, Armie.” Timmy shakes his head, head turned downwards, and Armie’s stomach turns to ice.

“ _Oh._ Uhm.” Armie doesn’t even know what to say to that.

“Eventually, if we stay together as long as you say, I’d hope, you know, I’d get to be your husband at some point, instead.” Timmy turns his head back up, sending Armie a wide smile, clearly pleased with his little game of deception.

“Oh, you son of a bitch. I thought I was gonna die for a little bit there.” Armie breathes out in relief.

“Really?” Timmy whispers.

“Yeah, really. I mean, I already like you, so much Timmy, and it’s only been a day. It’s more than a little overwhelming.”

“Me too. It’s crazy, and I mean, talking about getting married, even as a joke, just hours after having met someone, it shouldn’t feel this right.”

“Yeah, it does though. Destiny, remember?” Armie smiles.

“Is destiny gonna be our always?” Timmy jokes, blush coloring his cheeks a beautiful shade of pink.

“You know what? Yeah. Yeah, it is. Because that’s us. We’re destined for each other, I know it, I _feel_ it.”

“Me too.” Timmy nods, suddenly grinning widely. “You’re my density, Armie.” He says with a laugh.

“I can’t believe... Here I was, being all emotional, and you Back to the Future me.” Armie huffs out a laugh.

“Couldn’t help myself, it was my favorite movie to watch as a kid.”

Armie shakes his head, smiling fondly over at his boyfriend.

“There’s one thing, though, Armie. I, uh, I don’t want to tell people yet. Like at school, I don’t them to know yet.” Timmy says quietly, biting the nail on his thumb, obviously nervous about Armie’s reaction to that.

“Okay, so we don’t tell them yet, that’s fine with me. But, do you want to tell me why? Because I really hope it’s not because you think I’d be ashamed of you or anything like that.”

“It’s not that, I promise. It’s not about you at all, actually.”

“It’s not you, it’s me. Pulling that one out already, Timmy?” Armie teases, hoping to bring some levity back into the conversation. And it works, Timmy smiles over in his direction.

“It’s just. I’m already the blind new kid, Armie. I don’t really feel the need to add another word onto that just yet.” Timmy sighs. “I really like you though, just, can we please, at least take that bit a little slow?”

“Yeah, of course. To tell the truth, I don’t give a shit who knows. The people at school? They don’t matter to me, you do.” Armie leans in, kissing Timmy’s cheek.

Suddenly there’s a knock to the door, and Timmy’s mom comes walking in. “I just wanted to know, uh, Armie? Are you staying for dinner?” She sends him a small smile, which he returns happily.

“If that’s okay with you, I’d love to.”

“Good. Then I’ll see you both downstairs in an hour for dinner.” She walks out, closing the door behind her.

“She closed the door, does that mean she trusts me now?” Armie grins over at Timmy, who chuckles.

“That, or she just did it because it’s a force of habit.”

“Eh, that’s no fun. I’m gonna take it as her trusting me. That sounds much better.”

They spend the hour waiting for dinner to finish, talking more about music, Timmy showing him his record collection, each vinyl cover meticulously labeled with a sticker with braille writing on it to help Timmy identify it. Armie is also curious how the screen reader works, and after Armie collects the laptop from the desk, Timmy shows him.

When Armie asks if braille was hard to learn, Timmy just shrugs. “It’s not like I had much choice, you know. If I ever wanted to read again, I had to learn. In a way I was lucky, going blind so early, because it made it easier. I don’t know if I would’ve picked it up as quickly as I did if I had gone blind today.”

Timmy’s phone suddenly lets out a “One new text message from: Mom” Startling them both, and Timmy fumbles for it, but it’s just a couple of inches out of his reach, so Armie picks it up and gives it to him. Smiling as he watches Timmy putting it up to his mouth, double tapping the screen and speaking into the microphone. “Read new text message.”

“Dinner is ready, darling.” The phone says, and Timmy nods. “Are you ready to be interrogated?”

“Of course.” Armie laughs. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Timmy. Don’t worry.”

He guides Timmy back down the stairs, and into the kitchen. Timmy’s dad smiling up at them when they walk in. “Hope you’re hungry, Nicole made enough food to feed an entire army. Or, an Armie, I guess.” Timmy’s dad laughs loudly at his own joke, and Armie can’t help but snort a little at the long-suffering groan Timmy lets out.

“Seriously, dad?”

“I thought it was funny.” Marc shrugs.

“Is Pauline home yet?” Timmy asks, no doubt hoping to change the subject.

“She said she’s going out to eat with some of the girls from her ballet lesson, she should be home soon though.” Nicole answers as she places the casserole in the middle of the table. She then picks up Timmy’s plate and starts putting food onto it. Quickly moving on to Armie’s “Tell me when.” She says with a smile. Doing the same for her husband afterwards.

They eat in relative silence, until Timmy’s dad tells another terrible joke, and they all laugh in spite of themselves. The atmosphere sufficiently lightened.

When they’re finished with their meal, Armie offers to help with the dishes, while Timmy’s dad walks him into the living room. Marc gives Armie an approving nod before leaving.

He stands side by side with Timmy’s mom in the kitchen, him washing the dishes while she dries them and puts them back where they belong.

“I don’t mean to be so hard on you, Armie. It’s just. I don’t know you. But I do know my son, and bless him, even after everything he’s been through, his heart is open to a fault. And there are so many people out there who are willing to take advantage of that. And if he isn’t going to do anything to protect himself, then I have to. I’m sure you’re not a bad kid, but fact of the matter is, you only met my son today. How much can you really claim to know about him yet?”

“I might have only met him today, that’s true, but I do really like your son. And I know he’s gorgeous, funny, smart and -”

“Blind.” Timmy’s mom cuts in. Eyebrow raised, posture stiff and challenging.

“Yes. I’m aware of that.” Armie nods. “But that doesn’t matter. Just like the fact that it doesn’t matter that my eyes are blue or that your hair is brown. It’s a part of him, but it’s not who he is. He’s just Timmy. And, like I said, I really _really_ like him.”

He watches as Timmy’s mom seems to melt in front of his eyes. “Okay.” She nods, tears welling up in her eyes. “Okay, yeah, you can stay, we’re keeping you.” Wrapping her arms around Armie and giving him a tight, grateful, hug which Armie immediately reciprocates, hugging her back just as tightly.

When the dishes are done, they walk back out into the living room, arms interlocked at the elbows, Nicole laughing loudly at a story Armie was telling her about his childhood. Timmy’s whips his head around so fast at the sound of his mother's laughter that Armie almost worried he gave himself whiplash.

“What’s going on?” Timmy says confused.

“Me and your mom, we’re best friends now.” Armie says with a smile as he sits down next to Timmy on the couch, winking over at Nicole as she sits down next to Marc, who just grins and shakes his head.

“Seriously?” Timmy frowns, obviously not buying it.

“Yes. Seriously.” Nicole says, smiling. “You were right, I was being too harsh, and I needed to, what was it? Chill and let you live. I’m sorry, Timmy, I really am. I’ll try and be less paranoid in the future.”

“I – I don’t even know what to say? You. Thank you, mom.”

“Just promise me one thing, please. The both of you.”

“What?” Timmy says at the same time Armie shrugs and agrees with a “Sure.”

“No more making out on the living room couch where anyone can walk in on you.” She says with a laugh, making both of them blush with embarrassment.

The four of them have a really nice time, talking about everything from school to where the closest golf club was located. And before they know it, Pauline comes home. Stopping in her tracks when she sees Armie on the couch next to Timmy, with his arm around him, and Timmy cuddled up to his side.

“Who’s this?” Pauline asks, nose wrinkling in confusion.

“Armie Hammer. He’s Timmy’s new boyfriend.” Marc says with a smile, making Pauline’s eyes widen.

“He’s _what?!_ Since when? It was your first fucking day at school, Timothée!”

“Yeah, I know. And I happened to get lucky.” Timmy smiles. Unaware of the comical look of horror that flashes across his sister’s face at his choice of words.

“ _YOU WHAT?!_ ” Pauline shouts. “Please, for the love of fucking god, tell me you did not sleep with him already.”

“What?” Timmy sits up, looking confused. “Not that that’s any of your business, but no? Why would you even ask that?”

“You said you got lucky, what the fuck else was I supposed to think?!” Timmy’s own eyes widen as the implications of his words catch up with him.

“Oh god, no. Pauline!! I literally just meant what I said, I got lucky, I was lucky enough that Armie is in all of my classes, lucky enough that he wants to spend time with me, lucky enough that he likes me back. I just, got lucky. I didn’t, _get lucky_.”

Pauline looks over at her parents, raising both her hands in frustration. “And you’re what, you’re just fine with this?!”

“Pretty much, yeah.” Marc shrugs, and Nicole nods.

“What the fuck?!” Pauline drops down into an available chair.

“Language, Pauline, please.” Nicole shakes her head.

“No, mom. How the fuck am I not supposed to curse when there’s a stranger in our house, a stranger Timmy only met today, and you’re suddenly all fine with it, calling him his boyfriend like that’s perfectly normal?! That’s, no, that’s, no way.” She turns to Armie, glaring at him.

“It is perfectly _normal_ though.” Marc says sharply. “Why shouldn’t your brother get to find a boyfriend on his first day of school? You did back in New York, remember? What’s so different about this?”

“ _Timmy_ is what’s different! He never knows what’s best for himself.” Pauline says, shaking her head.

“Because I’m blind, I must be a complete idiot? Is that what you’re saying?” Timmy says, hurt coloring his tone.

“No, Timmy, that’s not what I’m saying. You have too much faith in people, is all.”

“I’ve already had that conversation with Armie, dear.” Nicole says, smiling over at him. “I trust him, your father trusts him, and more importantly, your brother really likes him. So, please, just let it go, and be glad your brother has finally found someone who makes him happy.”

“No. Sorry, I don’t buy it.” Pauline shakes her head and leaves the room, the door to her bedroom slamming shut a while later.

“Sorry about her, Armie.” Marc says into the uncomfortable silence Pauline left in her wake. “She’ll come around.”

“It’s fine, honestly. I get it. Give me a few days, and I’ll probably want to kill everyone who could potentially hurt Timmy, too.” Armie chuckles. Timmy leans up and kisses him on the jaw, cuddling back up into his side. And their conversation starts back up again as if nothing happened.

Pauline corners him on the front porch later, just as he’s about to head on home.

“You might have everyone else fooled, but I’m watching you, Hammer. And I promise you, if you hurt my brother, in any way? I will _end_ you. And they’ll never find your body. _Ever_.”

He smiles softly down at her, seemingly catching her a little off guard. “You know what, Pauline? If I ever do hurt Timmy, you have my permission to kill me. I’d deserve it.” He nods, and starts walking across the street to his house. He can see Pauline still standing outside, staring after him, when he reaches his own front door, so he gives her a wave before turning around and stepping inside. He'd win her over eventually, he was sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't help myself with the Back to the Future reference, it was just too perfect.
> 
> See you in a couple of days with part two, featuring Armie's parents!


	2. Armie's parents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, okay, before we jump straight into this chapter, as you can see from the tags, I do have some minor warnings for you. It's nothing bad, per se, just, better safe than sorry, you know? 
> 
> Armie's parents are massive assholes in this, like I'm talking world class level of asshole-ry, they throw slurs and ableist comments around like it's their job, so this chapter is not as fluffy as the other pieces of this story have been. 
> 
> There are some references to Armie's dad being abusive, but it's nothing physical, and it's all in the past. Not to say that emotional abuse is not just as bad, just that none of it actually takes place, actively, within this chapter. There are also some references to self harm, but not in the usual sense. And by that, I mean, there is no cutting or anything of the sort, but still self harm in the sense of using physical pain as a way of controlling ones emotions. Again, it's not all that graphic, but please, I beg you, ask me if you're worried! I'll tell you everything you need to know.

Armie came out to his parents a few days after the incident with Nick.

It had started as a perfectly normal day, or, whatever passed for his new normal anyway. He’d walked over to Timmy’s house in the morning, had breakfast with Timmy and his parents, driven them both to school and as always, guided Timmy to and from every lesson. He _technically_ didn’t need to be guided anymore, but fuck it, it was a nice routine, so they kept it up. Elizabeth had come back from her suspension that day, grinning widely at him and Timmy when she passed them in the hall. Then at lunch she had dropped into the empty seat next to Saoirse.

“Hey, you’re new, I’m Elizabeth!” She’d smiled over at her, and Armie watched with a grin as Saoirse seemed to be left completely speechless, a light blush coloring her cheeks as she was staring wide eyed over at Elizabeth. In fact, Armie doesn’t think she blinked once in the entire time it took her to remember to introduce herself back.

“Oh, uh – I – Saoirse! My name. Saoirse.” She stuttered out, smiling sheepishly, and Armie could hear Timmy snort softly beside him.

“Saoirse? That’s such a beautiful name.” Elizabeth said, making Saoirse blush even deeper, much to Armie’s amusement. Then Elizabeth wrinkled her nose, and looked over at Armie with an exaggerated pout. “What is it with you people and your interesting names? I want a cool name too!”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to mine. I’d gladly switch with you.” He shrugs. “I wouldn’t exactly call Armand _interesting_.” Timmy gives him a kiss on the cheek, whispering in his ear. “That’s not true, you’re more than interesting, babe.” Armie smiles at him softly, leaning down and capturing his lips in a chaste kiss.

“Wait, your name is _Armand_? But, that’s so, _fancy_.” Saoirse blinks over at him in confusion.

“Gee thanks, Sersh. Appreciate it.” Armie deadpans, making Timmy cackle so loudly he instantly puts both hands over his mouth in embarrassment. Armie just chuckles, and puts his arm around him, giving him a light squeeze.

“I deadass thought it was just Armie.” She says, suddenly frowning. “Wait! Armand Hammer? As in, Arm _and_ Hammer? The baking soda? Is that you? Are you baking soda?” She says it so seriously, it makes both Elizabeth and Timmy laugh. Armie just rolls his eyes and shakes his head at all of them.

“No, Sersh, I’m not _baking soda_. That was my great-grandfather. Or – No – I mean. He wasn’t baking soda either! Just, he bought the damn company, apparently he said it was only fair, since they’d already named it after him.” Armie rolls his eyes. “And then of course my parents just _had to_ go and name me after him.” Saoirse grins at him, nodding her head.

“So what you’re saying is, you _are_ baking soda, just baking soda jr.” She says, making Elizabeth and Timmy laugh, again.

“I’m so gonna save you as that in my phone.” Elizabeth says, gasping with laughter, grabbing Saoirse’s shoulder for support so she doesn’t fall out of her chair. Saoirse smiles over at her, adding with an evil glint in her eye, “I have him saved as the hammer and eggplant emojis.”

“What? Why?” Elizabeth frowns. Armie, knowing exactly what’s coming next, groans loudly, making Timmy chuckle, and Saoirse grins wickedly over at him, before leaning closer to Elizabeth, and whispering conspiratorially. “Because, the hammer is his penis.” This time Elizabeth actually does fall off her chair.

 

Normally he’d give Timmy a ride home after school, but his parents came to pick him up because they were taking Timmy away on a weekend getaway, apparently they’d planned it long before they even moved, so they could have something to look forward to as they settled into a new city.

Meaning Armie was left home alone, with his own parents.

They’re eating dinner, in complete silence as usual, when his dad suddenly drops his fork down on the plate, the noise it makes sounding extremely loud in the otherwise silent house, and he’s glaring up at Armie. “Where exactly have you been for the last week?”

“Oh, uhm, with a friend?” He stutters out, throat dry, suddenly nervous.

“A friend, huh? Wouldn’t happen to be the new neighbor would it?” His dad says, voice dripping with venom.

“Uhm, yes?”

“The new neighbor?” Armie’s mom wrinkles her nose in disgust. “The blind kid?!”

“Yes, exactly, the blind kid.” His father growls. “He’s been _fucking him!_ ”

“What?!” Armie yells loudly in shock. “No, I haven’t!”

“I saw you!” His dad yells, and his mom gasps in surprise. “YOU SAW THEM FUCKING?!” She screeches loudly.

“Close enough, they were making out on their doorstep the other day, when I came home from work.”

As much as his father’s words shock him, Armie can’t help but roll his eyes inwardly at himself, why is it that he and Timmy can never fucking seem to make out in peace? People are always fucking _seeing_ them, first Timmy’s parents, then Michael the shithead, and now his own dad as well. ‘Maybe if you stuck to making out in private, neither one of these things would have happened.’ his brain unhelpfully adds.

“Armie!” His mom says, annoyance clear on her face, meaning it can’t have been the first time she tried to get his attention.

“Sorry, what did you say?” He sends her a sheepish smile, she just glares back at him, the hatred behind her eyes has him shrinking in his seat.

“I asked you, if what your father is saying is true? Are you _fucking_ the _blind_ kid?”

Armie can feel his stomach start to bubble with uncontrollable rage, how _dare_ his parents keep reducing Timmy to nothing but his disability? He was so much more than that, he was Armie’s fucking _everything,_ and no one, not even his parents, were allowed to say a single bad word about him. Ever.

“No, Mother. I am not _fucking_ the blind kid.” He says sharply, every word tinged with barely contained fury. “The blind kid, as you keep calling him, is my boyfriend.” Armie grins recklessly, knowing he’s already doomed. “I _love_ him.”

“You _what?!_ ” His father shouts, voice shaking with rage, standing up so fast his chair tips backwards. Which in the past would have had Armie wincing, and running to lock his bedroom door. But not this time, and never again.

Armie gets up too, straightening his back so he’s at his full height, towering over his father, his rage making him brave. “Did you want to say something, Father?” Armie says sweetly, staring into his father’s eyes, and he can see the exact moment he backs down.

“You fucking _fag!_ You are no son of mine!” His dad spits out, turning around and walking out of the house. Door slamming shut behind him so hard it rattles the picture frames on the wall.

Armie sits back down and continues eating his dinner as if nothing had happened, his dad’s reaction pretty much exactly what he expected it to be. Fucking coward of a man that he turned out to be.

“I didn’t raise you this way, Armand.” His mom says sadly, a couple of minutes later, tears dripping down her cheeks. “You being a fag is bad enough, but why did you have to go and find yourself a boyfriend that’s fucking handicapped?!” She cries out.

Armie just stares at her, until the rage in his stomach completely bubbles over, and he quickly stands up, chair letting out a loud screech of protest as it’s pushed backwards on the hardwood floors. He’s stands there, breathing heavily and staring unblinkingly down at his mother, who starts sobbing, asking God for forgiveness on Armie’s behalf.

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” He breathes out, so angry he can’t even see straight.

“Dare, what? Armand? Care about your _soul?_ ” His mother stares up at him tearfully. Armie lets out a loud roar of rage, and in one swooping motion of his arm, he sends everything on the table flying, no doubt breaking into thousand pieces as it hits the floor. He doesn’t stick around long enough to find out.

The last thing he sees before he runs up the stairs to his room, and slams the door shut, is his mom staring wide eyed back up at him, face wet and eyes red rimmed with unshed tears. As soon as the door is locked, he lets out another loud yell, and punches the wall, leaving a fist shaped hole next to his door.

Pulling his arm back, hand now covered in white plaster dust, and blood, he stares down at his bleeding knuckles as if they belong to someone else, pain not even registering. Then he grabs his car keys where they’re lying on his desk, and hurries back down the stairs, not sparing his mother a single glance where she’s still sitting at the dinner table, yelling after him as he slams the door shut. He jogs over to his car, starting it up immediately and pulling out of there like a bat out of hell. He couldn’t stay in that house for even a second longer, or god knows what the fuck he’d do.

 

He drives around aimlessly for a while, fighting the urge to crash into every single car he meets, just to see what would happen, the call of the void particularly loud tonight. When the rage eventually passes, it’s replaced by heartache, and pain, both emotional and physical, his hand suddenly feels like it's on _fucking fire_.

He pulls over on a dirt road, and parks his car before breaking down.

Loud sobs fight their way out of his throat, tears falling down his face at an alarming rate. He holds absolutely nothing back, letting _everything_ out. Gasping for air as he cries for his parents, for the unimaginable hurt their words caused, and the hatred he’s always carried for them in his heart, that he now knows for sure they’re never gonna do a damn thing to try to fix. He also cries for Timmy; he cries about them being outed very much against Timmy’s wishes, he cries for the fact that people will only ever see him as the blind kid and completely overlook the beautiful soul hiding underneath those sunglasses he always wears. He even cries about Nick.

Absolutely everything he’d buried in the last week comes bubbling up to the surface, and it _hurts_. It hurts so fucking much he doesn’t know how he’s going to bear it. Why did this always fucking happen to him? Why couldn’t he ever just get to be _happy?_

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, sobbing his heart out. But he knows it must’ve been a while, because it’s suddenly dark outside, and his head is throbbing almost just as much as his hand at this point. He wipes his nose on his wrist, then he wrinkles his nose in disgust and wipes his wrist on his jeans. He pulls the arm of his hoodie down over his already bruised knuckles, figuring it’ll be easier to pretend everything is fine if he can’t actually _see_ that anything’s wrong, wincing at the pain that shoots up his entire arm when he uses that hand to start the car back up. He gets back on the main road, driving to the only person he knows would always let him stay the night, without demanding an explanation.

 

Elizabeth opens the door with a smile, frowning slightly when she sees he’s been crying. “It’s not Timmy, is it?” She asks, worried. “No.” Armie croaks out, and she nods, seemingly satisfied. “Okay, good. I’ll make up the usual guest room for you, come in.”

He thanks her quietly as he slips into the bed in Elizabeth’s guest room, or more accurately, Elizabeth’s dad’s guest room, _god,_ he hadn’t stayed here in ages. But once upon a time, this room used to be his sanctuary, and the last time he’d been in here had been right before they broke up. He looks up at her, and he opens his mouth as if to say something, but what that something is, he doesn’t know himself yet.

“It’s okay, Armie. You don’t have to explain anything, that was always our deal, remember?” She cuts him off with a smile, and to his horror he feels his eyes welling back up with tears. “Thank you.” He croaks out, voice wet with unshed tears, and he quickly rolls over onto his side, back facing the door, so that Elizabeth can’t see anything. Luckily she takes the hint, and he can hear the door close quietly behind her as she leaves him alone.

He lets the tears fall once again, not even bothering to try and stop them. He grabs a pillow, sobbing into it, hoping it would muffle the most obvious crying sounds.

He thought he was done with this, that he had no more tears left to cry, but apparently he was wrong.

 

He can’t remember falling asleep, but he wakes up the next morning, eyes almost swollen shut from all the crying, and his throat so dry it’s actually painful. Even more painful, is the state of his hand. It had gotten alarmingly swollen during the night, it had also started to go a worrying shade of purple. Meaning he’d be spending his entire Saturday in the ER waiting room. Again.

After a quick shower to freshen up a little, he finds Elizabeth and her father eating breakfast in the kitchen, and he quickly hides his hand behind his back, so they don’t see it, the last thing he’d need was for her dad to start asking questions. “Armie Hammer! I’ll be damned, I never thought I’d see you again.” Elizabeth’s dad grins up at him, and he smiles back. “Lizzie tells me you’re friends again?”

“That’s right, yeah. We had a little, uh, misunderstanding. Took a while to work it out, but we’re good now.” Armie says with a nod.

“Yes, that’s what Lizzie said. I’m glad you’re back on good terms, I always liked you Armie.”

“Oh, well, uh, thank you, sir. That’s, thank you.” Elizabeth smiles over at him where he stands in the doorway, stuttering like a fool.

“Would you like to stay for breakfast, Armie? Or do you have somewhere to be?” Elizabeth asks, clearly giving him an out, and he’s so grateful for having her back in his life he almost starts to cry again.

“I have somewhere I need to be, yeah, sorry. Maybe next time?”

“Next time then.” Elizabeth’s father nods. “You’re always welcome here, son, you know that right?” The way her father looks at him, he instantly knows that this has nothing to do with pleasantries, they’re both clearly worried about him, they both clearly _care_ about him. He thinks back to all the nights he spent here over the years, and again, he’s so grateful for these two people that he feels himself tear up.

“That’s – Yes – I… _Thank you_.” He croaks out, trying to hide his face behind the palm of his uninjured hand, but the way his shoulders can’t stop shaking give him away despite his best efforts. The next thing he knows, Elizabeth’s arms are wrapping around him, guiding his face onto her shoulder and holding him close. Stroking his hair soothingly as he cries.

“Whatever you need, Armie. We’re always here for you.” Elizabeth whispers.

When his tears finally stop, Armie pulls away, wincing at the large wet spot on the shoulder of Elizabeth’s t-shirt. She smiles softly up at him, and gently wipes away the remaining tears on his cheeks.

“I should go.” Armie whispers, and Elizabeth nods. “I’ll see you on Monday?” He asks, and she smiles widely. “Yes, definitely. See you on Monday.”

 

The drive from Elizabeth’s house to the ER usually only takes 10 minutes, but with weekend traffic being what it is, it takes him more like half an hour. But he’s lucky enough to find a parking spot almost immediately, he pays for 24 hours of parking just to be on the safe side, and walks into the ER.

He grins when he spots the nurse working the triage desk, he pulls a queue number, and sits down to wait.

“Gladys! I thought you didn’t work Saturdays anymore.” He smiles widely at her when it’s his turn.

“I don’t, but Diana got chickenpox from her kid.” Gladys shrugs, taking her glasses down from her head and putting them back on her nose, typing something onto the computer. “Now, Armie dear, what brings you here today?”

He smiles sheepishly up at her as he places his swollen, purple, hand onto the desk. “I think I broke my hand again.”

“Oh sweetheart, what did you punch this time?” She sighs, tucking a strand of gray hair behind her ear, going back to typing.

“My bedroom wall?”

“I see, and how long ago was this?”

“Last night.”

“More than 12 hours ago?”

“Yeah, more like 15?” He winces at the stern look on Gladys’ face.

“Armie! You know you should always get a possible fracture checked out as soon as possible!”

“I know, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” He stares down at his feet, feeling strangely chastened.

“You’re lucky we’re not too crowded right now, the wait time shouldn’t be too bad. And you know the drill by now, right? A doctor will call your name when it’s your turn, until then? Well, do what all you young kids are doing these days, scroll through your instasnaps or whatever.”

Armie laughs. “I’ll do that, Gladys. Thank you.”

He’d charged his phone at Elizabeth’s during the night, so his battery was thankfully at 98% and would last him a good while. He smiles as he sees that he’s got a text from Timmy’s mom, it’s a beautiful picture of Timmy standing on a balcony, sunshine on his face, eyes closed as he’s clearly enjoying the warmth of the sun, but his sunglasses are nowhere in sight. Armie sends her a thank you for the picture, followed by a message consisting only of three hearteye emojis and five red heart emojis.

Timmy had also texted him, there’s a good night message from last night that he’d missed. And an I miss you so much, I can’t wait to go home, from ten minutes ago. He replies to that, saying that he misses him too, but that he’s not going anywhere, so Timmy should try to enjoy the trip as much as possible. He also adds an I love you and a couple of red heart emojis.

Just then his phone vibrates with a string of texts from Saoirse, that actually makes him laugh out loud, drawing some angry glares from the people around him.

 _< Hey. So. Elizabeth> _  
_< Is she?> _  
_< Sdfgkjfslkgjhsflkghsjfk> _  
_< No you know what?>  
_ _< Never mind>_

He smiles down at his phone as he replies.

<I don’t know for sure, but she might be>  
<If I were you, Sersh, I’d go for it>

 _< Easy for you to fucking say!>  
_ _< I’m gonna die>_

<Liz is like the opposite of scary!>  
<Worst case scenario, she says no>  
<But what if she said yes?>

_< No Armie I can’t risk it>_

<That doesn’t sound like the Sersh I know>  
<The one that just a few days ago>  
<Sat down in front of two complete strangers>  
<And told them they were gonna be her new bff’s>

The three dots indicating that Saoirse is typing keeps disappearing and reappearing, and Armie decides to take a quick look at his Instagram feed while she fights with herself on what to write him back. He’s only made it through two animal videos when his phone vibrates again.

_< Fuck. You’re right. I hate you. Gdi>_

He sends her a thumbs up emoji followed by a shit ton of pink sparkly hearts. Laughing at his phone again when she just sends him a middle finger emoji in return.

His name is called a little while later, and a nurse takes him to get his hand X-rayed, and then it’s back to the waiting room. He also gets an ice pack to try to reduce the swelling a little.

Suddenly there’s a huge commotion outside, and a guy comes running into the ER, the front of his t-shirt covered in bloodstains. He’s screaming for help, apparently his wife had fallen down a flight of stairs and then passed out in the car on the way here, and now her head was bleeding and please don’t let her die!

Armie looks down at his hand, as a couple of doctors rush out the door with a gurney, all his problems suddenly seemed so fucking insignificant in the face of a human being possibly dying, and he considers just getting up and leaving. But then he remembers a thing Elizabeth once told him.

‘There will always be those who have it worse than you, but that doesn’t mean that your feelings aren’t valid, it’s not a competition, Armie.’

So he stays put.

His name is called half an hour later, and the doctor is studying his X-ray as he takes a seat in the only available chair.

“I’m Doctor Greenwood.” The doctor smiles at him. “So, Mr. Hammer. I understand you’ve hurt your hand?”

“Yeah, I – Uh – I kinda punched a hole in my bedroom wall last night.”

“I see. Well, according to the X-rays, you’ve suffered a break to the 5th metacarpal, also known as -”

“A boxer’s fracture.” Armie cuts him off with a nod. “Yeah, I’ve had that before.”

“There also appears to be a hairline fracture to your ulna, but I don’t think a cast will be necessary. Instead you’re going to get a wrist brace, that will stay on for about 6 weeks, and we’ll buddy tape your fingers, and you’ll keep doing that for 12 weeks.” The doctor explains. “For the pain, there’s not much I can give you, just take some Ibuprofen when you feel like you need it.”

“Yeah, sounds good, doc. When – Uh – How often should I come in for check ups?”

“Come in at 6 weeks, and we’ll remove the wrist brace here if everything looks good. And we’ll also check on the progress of the other fracture as well, and see if a second check up is even necessary.”

The wrist brace is secured around his wrist with no problems, however the taping of his fingers hurt like a motherfucker, but he does his best to grit his teeth against the pain and the doctor gives him an Ibuprofen to take when they were finally finished.

When he walks back out of the examination room, and starts making his way out of the ER he sees that Gladys’ desk is free, and he walks up to her, showing off his new wrist brace with a smile.

“Boxer’s fracture again?” Gladys shakes her head at his confirming nod. “When are you gonna take me up on my offer to have my grandson teach you some actual boxing? In an actual gym, with punching bags, and _protective gloves._ ”

“As I’ve told you before, Gladys. I don’t need it, but thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. You know where to find me if you change your mind, darling. And promise to be more careful, please.”

“Anything for you, Gladys. You know that.” He smiles winningly at her, and she just scoffs.

 

He drives himself back home, sitting in his car staring up at the house for a good long while before he gets out and goes inside.

He passes his parents in the living room on his way to get something to drink from the kitchen, they pretend that they can’t even see him, which suits him just fine.

The rest of his weekend is spent in bed. He watches a couple of episodes of Westworld, and he also catches up on some homework, finishes an essay that’s not due for another week, and reads a book that he bought online at Timmy’s recommendation. The book breaks his heart into a thousand pieces, and he sends Timmy a text.

<I read the book you recced me>  
<You evil son of a bitch>  
<It’s a beautiful love story, you said>  
<HE FUCKING LEAVES???>  
<AND GETS MARRIED??? TO SOMEONE ELSE????>  
<THEY SPEND THEIR ENTIRE LIFE LONGING FOR THAT SUMMER!!!>  
<FOR EACH OTHER>  
<TIMMY!!! I HATE YOU>

  _< LOL! I never said it was a happy one. I said it was beautiful.  
_ _And it was. Right? >_

 <Yeah>  
<FUCK>  
<I’m never gonna be able to read that book again though>  
<Hurts too much>

Timmy texts him back a row of heart emojis, making him smile. And he lies back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to shake the feeling of heartache that the ending of the book left him with.

 

Timmy and his parents come back home late on Sunday, and Armie had promised Timmy he wouldn’t wait up, but when their car backs up into their driveway at 1 AM, Armie watches them from his bedroom window. Smiling when he sees a sleeping Timmy being carried inside by his dad.

He doesn’t tell Timmy about his hand when he goes to his house for breakfast that morning, taking advantage of the fact that Timmy’s parents were still asleep, knowing that telling him would only make Timmy worry, and everything was fine now, so why worry him needlessly? His plan works perfectly, all the way up until lunch, when Saoirse sits down, in her now usual seat, across from them.

“Dude! The fuck happened to your hand?” She exclaims, loudly. So loud it makes a few people turn around and stretch their necks to see what she was talking about.

“It’s nothing.” He says quickly, hiding his hand under the table.

“That does not look like _nothing_ , Armie. What did you do? Timmy?” She looks over at Timmy, obviously expecting him to have the answers. But Timmy just frowns over at Armie.

“You’ve hurt your hand?” He asks, confused.

“No! I told you, it’s fine. It’s nothing.” Armie gives Saoirse a look that clearly says ‘Shut up’ and she just raises her eyebrows at him, shaking her head.

“No. I am not going to be a part of your ‘lets lie to my blind boyfriend’ game. Fuck that.” She throws her hands up in frustration and turns back to Timmy. “His wrist is in a brace, and two of his fingers are taped together, and his knuckles are raw and bruised as hell, as if he punched a wall or something. So s _omething_ is obviously _not_ _fine_.”

Just then Elizabeth sits down next to Saoirse with a smile. “What are we talking about?” She asks.

“Armie lying to Timmy about his very obviously broken hand.” Saoirse snaps.

“Oh, Armie, not again.” Elizabeth says sadly.

“Again?” Timmy asks, voice now tinged with worry.

“Yeah, this is like the third or fourth time.” Elizabeth shakes her head, her words obviously a massive shock to both Timmy and Saoirse. Timmy inhales sharply, and Saoirse widens her eyes over at him.

“Armie? Babe? Talk to me, please?” Timmy whispers, leaning into his side.

“I told you, I’m fine.” Armie says, voice wobbling in the face of their combined worry. He hates this so much, this is _exactly_ why he didn’t want to tell anyone.

“Was it your dad again?” Elizabeth says quietly, so no one would be able to overhear them, and Armie just gives up on pretending, nodding his head with a quiet “Yeah.” Elizabeth already knows everything, and he doesn’t want to ever truly lie to Timmy.

“Your _dad_ did this to you?” Timmy exclaims, horrified, grabbing onto Armie’s thigh and Saoirse looks ready to commit murder.

“Not exactly, no. He’s never actually laid a finger on me. But he also never had to.” Armie scrubs his uninjured hand over his face. “Ever since I was little, he’s just, always been very angry, and it gets a lot worse whenever he drinks. Which he does, a lot. But, anyway, he’s never physically hurt me, what he has done, is yell at me a lot. Blaming me for things that are way out of my control. And he does the same thing to my mom, and he did it to my older brother before he left for college.” He pauses to try and collect his thoughts, and Timmy wraps his arm around him, hugging him from the side.

“Whenever things at home got too unbearable, the atmosphere just too fucking pressed, with my dad so fucking angry every little noise was enough to send him flying off the handle, I’d run away and go sleep at Liz’s place.” He sends her a grateful smile. “She promised me once, after I’d broken down and told her everything, that I’d never have to explain why I’d need to crash at her place, that she was just glad to be able to help.” He swallows down a sob, and clears his throat.

“Anyway. The thing with my hand, it’s like I’ve inherited a little of my dad’s rage, but where he takes his anger out on us by yelling, I -”

“You take it out on yourself.” Timmy says quietly.

“Yeah.” Armie nods.

“Babe, I’m so sorry.” Timmy whispers, a few tears falling down his cheeks. “You’re always, _always_ , welcome to spend the night at my place. You know that, right?”

“Mine, too, Hammer. Whenever you need it.” Saoirse nods, unshed tears making her eyes look slightly glassy.

Armie feels so overwhelmed with love he can’t help but release a few tears of his own. “Thank you. All of you. And I’m sorry.” He kisses Timmy’s cheek, tasting the salt from his tears on his tongue. “I never wanted to lie to you. I hope you know that.” He whispers.

“Yeah, just promise me you’re never gonna do it again. Or I’m gonna sic Pauline on you.” Timmy says the last part playfully, obviously hoping to lighten the mood, and make Armie laugh. And it works.

“Just you wait, I’ll win her over soon! She’s going to be my number one fan, she just doesn’t know it yet.”

“I thought _I_ was your number one fan?” Timmy teases.

“Damn, true.” Armie grins, giving Timmy a quick kiss. “She can be number two then.”

“Just promise me one thing?” Timmy says, voice quiet but serious.

“Anything.”

“Please don’t do anything like this to yourself again. You’re not just hurting yourself anymore, you’re hurting me too.” Timmy sends him a sad smile. “There has got to be healthier ways of working through your anger, that doesn’t include you breaking your own hand.”

Armie smiles softly down at him, tears welling up in his eyes again and he wraps Timmy up in a hug. “I’m sorry babe, I promise, this was the last time. And you’re right, there is. I know exactly what I’m gonna do.”

 

After school that day, Armie drives them over to the ER, telling Timmy to just stay and wait in the car, saying that he only had a quick errand to run. He smiles when he sees Gladys in her usual place, behind the triage desk. Armie cuts in line and quickly walks up to her, as soon as the person she was talking with when he walked in went back to their seat.

“Armie, back so soon? Is everything okay with your hand?” She asks, obviously worried.

“Yeah, everything’s fine, I promise. I just – I – Actually I came to ask you about your grandson’s phone number. You know, if the offer of boxing lessons is still on the table?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of quick notes before we leave. 
> 
> \- If you're wondering what the call of the void is, it's what people call that voice in your head that urges you to jump whenever you stand at the edge of a cliff, or to throw your phone in the water every time you're walking across a bridge, and yes, crash your car into others while you're driving. It's a weird compulsion, but people rarely actually do it, thankfully.
> 
> \- I have no idea how going to the ER works in America, apart from what I've seen on TV, which tbh always seems like a madhouse. So I modeled Armie's visit after how my own last visit went. Minus the poor guy who came in yelling for help, the only interesting thing that happened when I was there was that a guy came in having chopped his finger off. 
> 
> \- I'm not a doctor, as I'm sure is fairly obvious. But! I do know that hairline fractures don't actually show up on the X-rays until a few weeks after the fact, but, pfff, lets pretend they do. 
> 
> \- And yes, the book Timmy recced Armie was indeed Call Me By Your Name, couldn't quite help myself there. 
> 
> Right! So. What did we think?


End file.
